


37 Moons

by lionessvalenti



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Community - Freeform, First Time, Getting Together, Hurt Steve Rogers, M/M, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-07-28 20:30:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16249250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: Bucky works to move forward with his life, including love, finding a community, and saving Steve.





	37 Moons

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to thinkatory for beta reading! And a hundred thanks to mewsiex for her gorgeous artwork and encouragement! More of mewsiex's artwork for the story can be found [right here](http://mewsiex.tumblr.com/post/178912073813/art-pieces-made-for-the-story-37-moons-by) and it's all beautiful.

Bucky was building a chicken coop.

What Bucky Barnes, a child of Brooklyn, knew about farming could fit into a thimble, but damn it, he was going to raise chickens and goats. He'd been given so much by the people of Wakanda, not just his home and a plot of land, but his own mind. He was going to put something back for them, even if it was eggs and milk. It was the least he could do. Then maybe one day, if he was feeling particularly wild, he'd get a cow or two.

That was about as wild as Bucky got in the three months since he came out of cryostasis for good. He woke up early, and built fences, and now his chicken coop. Everything took longer with only one arm, but after he was outfitted with a nail gun, things were moving smoothly.

Once the heat of the Wakandan afternoon took over, Bucky would retreat into his little house and catch up on the world he had missed, the one he had helped shape, in all the worst ways possible, and tried to find the good things.

It was still early in the day when he heard the motorcycle. The sound of the vibranium-run vehicles was different from a gasoline engine, quieter, but no less distinctive.

He looked up toward the hill, from the direction of the city. Moments later, the bike appeared, and every inch of Bucky's skin tingled with the recognition of Steve coming toward him. Someone could have warned him -- Shuri must have known that Steve had arrived, but what would she have said? Probably a joke about his boyfriend coming to visit. It wouldn't have made it any easier.

It was as though Bucky's feet were planted to the ground as he watched Steve approach, until the motorcycle came to a stop a few yards in front of him. Steve climbed off of the bike and took a cautious step toward Bucky. 

He looked the same as the last time Bucky had seen him, though his hair was longer. He was dressed in civilian clothes, jeans, a grey tee shirt, and a brown leather jacket. He didn't look like Captain America. He just looked like Steve. Bucky felt himself relax with each step Steve took, relishing in the familiarity.

"Buck?" Steve asked, slowly closing the gap between them, but with a hand held out, palm up, just in case he was also about to be attacked. It was a fair assumption.

"Hey, Steve," Bucky said, his lips turning up for a smile. He was so used to spending his days alone, he wasn't accustomed to deliberate facial expressions. "It's okay. It's me."

Steve's slow walk turned immediately into powerful strides, and an instant later, he had his arms around Bucky, their bodies flush together under Steve's tight embrace.

"Oh," Bucky gasped, half from having the wind knocked out of him from the force of Steve's massive chest shoving against him, and half from how damn good it all felt. It was warmth and comfort, being wrapped up in a big bear hug, even a little too tightly.

Though he was was the one regaining his breath, it was Steve whose breathing was ragged, and it took Bucky a second to recognize that Steve was crying. With his face buried in Bucky's shoulder, Steve's body was shaking with small, quiet sobs.

Bucky froze. What was he supposed to do? Slowly, he slipped his arm over Steve's shoulder, his hand resting at the back of Steve's neck. "Hey, pal, it's okay."

Steve responded by pushing his hand up into Bucky's hair, gripping it tightly. Bucky sucked in another quiet gasp as Steve tugged on his hair. It didn't hurt, but it was surprising and pleasantly intimate. Bucky tilted his face toward the back of Steve's head and inhaled deeply. He smelled clean like soap, and something warm that reminded Bucky of home.

Bucky remembered Steve fine, but holding him now, it was felt so achingly familiar, and he couldn't grasp _how_. They'd been affectionate, especially for boys of the time, but they'd never clung to each other like this, and yet, it felt _right _.__

"Sorry," Steve said, untangling his fingers from Bucky's hair. He pulled back a little, his arm still slung over Bucky's shoulder. His face was wet and flushed. "I didn't freak you out, did I?"

"No," Bucky replied, though it wasn't entirely true. He'd expected hugs, but maybe not tears, and definitely not Steve's entire body racked with sobs. Bucky was still getting a feel for his emotions again, and here Steve was, open and bare with his. It was a lot to take in.

"I just -- I didn't know if I'd ever see you again." Steve brought his hand up to Bucky's cheek. "You know. You."

Bucky nodded, but he knew he wasn't the guy Steve remembered. He wasn't the same man who went to war, he wasn't the Howling Commando, though most importantly, he wasn't the Winter Soldier. He was something else, a combination of all of those people, but there was no more confusion. He wasn't lost to it anymore. At least he knew what he was made of.

He swallowed and tried for a smile. "It's me. What's left of me."

"Buck." Steve hugged him again, and this time Bucky laughed.

"Are you ever gonna stop hugging me?"

"No," Steve replied, his voice muffled by Bucky's shoulder. "I'm never letting you out of my sight."

Well, that wasn't true, but it sounded nice. Bucky leaned into Steve's embrace and sighed quietly. "How long can you stay?"

Steve pulled back just enough so Bucky could see his face. "Not long, I'm afraid. Maybe a couple of days? I wanted to come as soon as we got Shuri's message, but we were in the middle of... well, we're always in the middle of something. We still are."

Bucky heard him, but he was stuck on one part. "We?"

"Sam and Natasha are with me."

"Ah." Bucky took another step back. "The Bucky Barnes fan club."

"Hey." Steve placed his hand on Bucky's shoulder and gave him a little shake. "They know that wasn't you."

It was. It was all him. He knew the difference between choices he'd made and things he'd been forced to do, but there was no separating that Bucky had done the things he'd done. It was everything that brought him to this point. He wouldn't be here without those things. But the look on Steve's face, the kindness, the light, there was no way to explain that to him. He wouldn't hear it. 

Bucky smiled slightly, though he didn't feel anything behind it. "It doesn't take it all back."

Steve frowned. "They aren't holding it against you. How about that?"

"How many times did I try to kill the both of them?"

"No one's counting."

Bucky pulled a face. "Sam was counting."

Steve considered him for a second and cracked a smile. "Sam may have been counting."

"How many times did I try to kill you?" Bucky asked. The words dragged as he said them, like he was walking through mud. He could remember holding a knife, intending to use it, as Steve blocked his punches. He remembered the weight of his hand coming down on Steve's face, and how his skin split open beneath the force of the blow.

"I definitely wasn't counting," Steve said softly. He touched Bucky's face again and smiled. Everything about him radiated warmth.

Bucky remembered Steve. He remembered everything. His mind had been wiped so many times as the Asset, leaving a lot of those details hazy, but so many of his memories were crystal clear. It was like watching a film, like he was seeing something happening to someone else. Someone who couldn't have been him. He couldn't have killed all those people just the same as he couldn't have been in love with Steve Rogers for his entire life.

But he did, and he had been.

He stepped away from the contact, leaving Steve's hand hanging there for a moment. "Are you hungry?"

"I could eat," Steve replied. He motioned back to the motorcycle, and when Bucky got a good look at it, he could see a duffel bag strapped to the back. "I thought maybe I could stay with you, if you didn't mind. I'm sure there's room for me up the tower, that's where Nat and Sam are staying, if..."

"I don't mind," Bucky replied without even thinking about it. "There's not a lot of space."

Steve grinned as he headed back to the bike for his bag. "It's going to be a hotel next to the places I've been staying."

* * *

Bucky hadn't put a lot of thought into his house. Technically, none of it belonged to him, right down to the clothes on his back. It had been fully furnished, decorated, and stocked with clothes and food when he moved in. The house was more like a studio apartment, with one big room for the kitchen, bedroom, and living area. It was all dark wood, with a few pieces of local art on the walls. The blankets on the bed were all brightly colored, and the furniture was rattan with squishy red cushions. The back wall of the house was half taken up by a huge sliding glass door with a gorgeous view of the mountains.

Steve, however, looked around curiously, like he might find some secret to Bucky he didn't already know. He wouldn't find it, though Bucky liked everything about the house. He didn't know if it was _his_ taste, but it didn't matter. It worked just fine.

"If you need to do laundry, there's a washing machine out the back," Bucky said as he got out a loaf of bread for sandwiches. "You'll have to put your clothes out on the line to dry."

Steve looked over his shoulder and grinned. "You put your clothes on the line."

"Just like my mother did," Bucky replied.

"Yeah, and I remember you refusing to help her." His smile took up his whole face, lighting up like the goddamn Fourth of July.

Bucky chuckled. He'd been a little shit as a kid, calling it women's work and he had sisters who could take care of it. Now, he'd give anything for just one more chance to help his mom. "It's the 21st century, Steve. And there's no one else here who's going to do my laundry."

Steve's smile faded a little. "Well, I'll take you up on the offer. We're a little high profile to just pop in at a laundromat."

Bucky pulled the two plates out of his cupboard. He had two of everything: plates, glasses, mugs, even two stools on the other side of the counter, like he was expected to have guests, but Steve was the first person to walk inside the house since Bucky took up residence. It was strange having another person in his space, but at the same time, it was _Steve_. It wasn't an invasion. It was almost natural.

"Is this the bathroom?" Steve asked, motioning to the closed door just beyond the wall the bed was pushed against.

Bucky looked up from his turkey sandwich preparation. "Oh, yeah, that's the one." The only other door was a narrow one next to the kitchen that served as a pantry. It was mostly empty, but Bucky stored a few things in there.

Steve disappeared into the bathroom and that gave Bucky moment to breathe. That was when his kimoyo beads rang with a new message. He flipped his hand over, palm up, and used his middle finger to pulled up the message.

While he was in cryo, Shuri had developed a special set of kimoyo beads for him that he could use one-handed. It didn't have all the functionality as regular beads, but she was always adding new things to it. Luckily, he didn't need much.

 _Oh, your boyfriend's on his way,_ the message read, and Bucky had to chuckle. He hadn't told her about his feelings for Steve, but Shuri was a genius. All it took was one conversation about Captain America and she figured it out, even through Bucky's stuttered protests. It probably didn't help that she had a hologram of his brain in front of her at the time. She could could see his nervousness in real time.

 _Thanks for the heads up, ten minutes ago,_ Bucky replied, slowly typing out the words. He was just finishing up when Steve reemerged.

"Pen pal?" he asked with a smile.

"Shuri," Bucky replied. He flipped the messages shut before Steve could catch the word _boyfriend_ It might have been light teasing, but honestly, Bucky had no idea how Steve felt on the subject. Today was the first casual conversation they'd had since the war.

"I haven't had the chance to thank her," Steve said. He walked toward the counter and leaned against it, looking up at Bucky. "I guess I will tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Oh, we were invited to a dinner. You too." Steve reached over and picked up the finished sandwich Bucky had made and took a bite. He chewed it thoughtfully and asked, "Where am I going to sleep?"

Bucky was still processing what kind of dinner he'd just been casually invited to when Steve asked his question. He glanced over at his single bed and his lack of couch and guessed it was a reasonable thing to ask. "The bed's all yours."

Steve glanced at the bed and back at Bucky. "And you're going to sleep on the floor?"

Bucky pointed with the knife in his hand to the rolled up straw mat that was leaning against his chest of drawers. "I usually do. The bed's too warm."

From the look on his face, it appeared someone had just crushed Steve's heart in their hand, but he recovered quickly. "So, what do you do out here?"

At that, Bucky grinned. "Grab your sandwich, I'll show you."

* * *

"What _is_ it?" Steve asked.

"It's a chicken coop." Bucky gave the structure a more critical eye. It was mostly just a frame at this point, but he had plans from the internet and help from some of the Border Tribe families. They had been absolutely integral in Bucky setting up his farm. That's where he was going to get his chicks, and eventually, his goats. He was pretty sure Shuri set them up nicely for their trouble, and they never acted like his questions were a bother or helping him was a chore.

Community, Bucky had learned in his short time awake in Wakanda, was important here.

"You're going to -- _chickens_?"

Bucky smiled. "I'm looking for a simple life, but I'm not going to fill it with nonsense. What's more simple than a farm? Nothing fancy, just..."

"Chickens," Steve said, as if he still didn't quite understand what Bucky was doing.

"I like eggs. I like chicken soup. Seems logical."

Steve laughed and rested his hand on the back of Bucky's neck. "Perfectly logical."

Bucky ignored the light sarcasm in Steve's tone. He motioned to the land past the house. "There's about three acres there that's for me. The coop is going to stay down here until I get the facilities up for the goats."

"Goats."

"That's a barn with a cooler, so I can store the milk. And then a paddock so the goats can run around. I'll move the coop up there when it's all done, so my household space doesn't smell completely like a farm." 

"I'm proud of you, Buck."

Bucky looked at him. "For what? I haven't done anything yet."

"That's not true. You went through something huge and complicated and difficult, and now you've come out on the other side of it. You have a plan. You're doing it. That's not for nothing. A lot of people would have used it as an excuse to not do anything, but you're building something." Steve motioned to the wooden frame. "Literally."

"When you put it like that, my unfinished chicken coop seems like a stellar accomplishment."

Steve pulled his hand away only long enough to clap it onto Bucky's shoulder. "How can I help?"

* * *

They worked well into the afternoon. Steve took over the bulk of the actual building, while Bucky read the instructions out to him, and holding pieces in place. Steve had taken one look at the plans and handed them back to Bucky.

"Just tell me what to do," he'd said.

If it had only been that simple. Steve could probably scale a building with his bare hands, but following simple plans to build the chicken coop seemed well beyond his capabilities.

Bucky's brow was sticky with sweat, and he'd even taken off the blanket he wore over his chest to cover where his arm would have been. If Steve noticed the flapping of the empty tee shirt sleeve in the wind, he never let on.

"I can't believe how bad you are at this," Bucky said with an impish grin.

"Me either," Steve replied. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "I have so much more respect for what you're doing out here. And I'm trying to do this with two hands."

Bucky nodded. "Simple isn't always easy."

"No kidding." Steve squinted up into the sun. "What time is it? We should probably get showered."

When Bucky blinked at him, Steve laughed softly.

"Dinner? Thought we should maybe clean up nice before dining with the king?"

"Dinner, right," Bucky said faintly. It wasn't that he didn't want to go to dinner, or be sociable. It was just that for a moment, he'd almost forgotten that this wasn't his life. That he and Steve weren't just always building something and smiling and _together_. It had seemed so natural. It felt like no time had passed, and they could have been on a rooftop in Brooklyn. He'd heard about people keeping birds in the city on their roofs, though he'd never considered it an option for himself.

They went back into the house and Bucky let Steve shower first, being the guest and all. While he waited, Bucky went through his chest of drawers looking for something appropriate. He doubted it was going to be fancy, but he rarely went anywhere that wasn't Shuri's lab.

Whoever set up the house had him prepared. He found a single pair of black slacks and a white button-down in the bottom drawer. He knew he didn't have any dress shoes, but his boots weren't too dirty. 

When the bathroom door opened, Bucky looked up. His breath got caught in his chest as Steve walked into the main room wearing only a towel around his waist. Bucky had seen the duffel bag on the floor next to the bed, but he never quite put the two things together, that Steve hadn't taken clothes with him in into the bathroom.

Bucky's mouth went dry as a million thoughts raced through his mind, more than a few involving dropping to his knees right there and taking in every single of inch of Steve's--

He ripped away from his flashes of fantasties and brought himself back to reality. He was staring, and Steve appeared to be blushing, and even though it had been about three seconds, it seemed like so much longer.

"Your turn," Steve mumbled as he walked closer, the warmth from the shower that was radiating off his skin palpable between them.

"Thanks," Bucky said just as quickly, clutching his dress clothes to his chest as he started for the bathroom. He hesitated at the door, glancing back just as Steve pulled off the towel. His back was to Bucky, but the full view offered planes of rippling muscle across Steve's shoulders, and down his back, to his goddamn perfect ass.

Bucky slipped into the bathroom, closing the door as quietly as possible. Apparently whatever part of him that once had any cool and game was lost to time. He set his clean clothes down on the counter and stripped out of his dirty things. 

Despite the hot arousal coursing through him, Bucky's cock was soft and still between his legs. It didn't usually bother him, but if he ever needed a quick jerk to take the edge off, this was it. Frowning, he stepped into the shower and tried to concentrate on anything else.

He wasn't sure when it was that the impotence started. Sometime in the sixties, maybe? There was no telling if it was something physically done to him, or something mental that he could push through. It was something he could hardly bring up with the sixteen year old female scientist who was basically his doctor now, but maybe he'd have to. It could have been something she missed. He doubted it, but the what if nagged at him.

Bucky dressed in the bathroom, tucking the left sleeve of his button-down into the shirt itself, giving him a relatively smooth line from his shoulder down. He combed out his wet hair and finally, sure that he could handle whatever version of Steve, clothed or unclothed, was on the other side of the door, walked into the main room.

Steve was dressed, even more casually than Bucky in jeans and a black tee shirt. He didn't have anyone to impress. He was naturally impressive. Captain America, saving the world. But mostly, though, he looked perfect.

"You clean up nice," Steve said with a grin.

"Thanks. You too."

"My last clean shirt. You're pretty isolated out here, you think anyone would notice if I did my laundry naked in the morning?"

Bucky choked out a laugh. "Just me, I guess."

Steve grinned, and for split second, Bucky was _certain_ Steve was on the same page he was. But he hadn't -- he'd never... it didn't matter. In a few days Steve would be gone, and it wouldn't matter how much Bucky wanted to kiss him.

"Let me get my shoes on," Bucky said, and the moment passed just as quickly as it had come upon them.

* * *

Bucky hadn't spent a lot of time in the palace proper. Shuri's lab was deep within the ground, and right now they were standing twenty floors above the city. With the impending sunset, it was a gorgeous view. It gave Bucky a stirring in his midsection, though he wasn't sure why.

"Hey, Buck?"

He turned away from the window at the sound of Steve's voice, and found Steve standing with both Sam and Natasha. Unlike Steve, who had foraged from his own bag, they looked like they'd have been given clothes for the evening. Sam was dressed not unlike Bucky in slacks and a button-down, though he also had a black tie, and Natasha was wearing a black jumpsuit with silver detailing at the plunging collar and cuffs.

There was probably a room somewhere in the palace intended for Steve with a wardrobe fit to his specifications, Bucky realized. Probably with someone to do all the laundry in his duffel bag. But Steve had skipped all of it to build chicken coops and wash his own clothes. To sleep next to Bucky. Or at least, in the bed while Bucky slept on the floor.

"Hi," Bucky said, pushing away his thoughts to Steve. He had a bigger issue at hand. What was he supposed to say to them? He could remember so clearly, his hand around Natasha's throat. Shooting at Sam. It was like those things had happened to someone else, but at the same time, it felt so familiar.

It didn't seem to matter. Sam stretched out his hand, and Bucky shook it. "How're you doing, man?" he asked.

"Fine," Bucky replied as he released Sam's hand. "Better."

Natasha smiled humorlessly. "No more urge to kill?"

"No more than you," Bucky replied.

"That's not exactly reassuring. I'd say on a scale of one to ten, Nat's urge to kill baseline is at least a three," Sam said, and behind him, Steve chuckled.

"I'd say that baseline is five," Natasha countered him quickly. "I spend a lot of time cooped up on a quinjet. With you. At least Barnes has the whole of a country to keep him occupied."

"Don't mind them," Steve said. "They're always like this."

But Bucky didn't mind at all. The interaction had actually relaxed him. It was almost as if he'd been with them and was part of the group. No one was holding anything against him, and at the same time, they weren't tip-toeing around the obvious. It was exactly what he wanted.

When they sat down to eat at the long table, Bucky and Steve were separated. Steve sat at one end with T'Challa, a woman Bucky didn't recognize, and Natasha, while Bucky sat at the other end with Shuri and Sam. A few of the tribal leaders filled in the spaces between them, giving the huge room a full sort of feeling, everyone talking with a bunch of different conversations happening at once.

"Who's that woman sitting across from Steve?" Bucky asked.

Shuri looked up from her plate. "Oh, that's Nakia."

"Holy shit, _that's_ Nakia?" His voice went hushed as he swore, though not for Shuri's benefit, but for the older woman sitting on his other side. If she noticed, she didn't let on, absorbed in her own conversation.

"Who's Nakia?" Sam asked, looking curiously down the table.

"T'Challa's ex," Shuri said. "I say 'ex' because they're aren't officially back together, but it sure seems to be going that way. Now that we're changing the way we keep Wakanda closed, it's making it a lot more difficult for them to stay apart."

"Shuri keeps me up to date on all the important gossip," Bucky said to Sam. He glanced back down the table at Nakia. "She doesn't want to be an ex anymore than he does. Look at her face."

Sam laughed, but he was watching her too. "I don't know about that, but I do know I should start dating in Wakanda."

Shuri grinned. "You let me know, I'll set you up. I know so many women who'd love a hot, American boyfriend." She pointed her thumb over at Bucky. "I tried to set up this one, but he wasn't having it."

"I'd like to be certain I'm fully... cognizant first," Bucky said.

She gave him a knowing look. "That's not it."

It was a few minutes later, when someone engaged Sam in conversation, that Shuri leaned over to Bucky and said in a low voice, "Speaking of faces, your boyfriend can't keep his eyes off you."

Bucky's shoulders tightened slightly and his stomach swooped. He glanced down the table at Steve, who was, indeed, looking at Bucky. They shared a quick smile, and Steve turned back to T'Challa.

"He keeps looking at you like you're a snack," Shuri said, her voice still low.

That shook Bucky out of his daze. He looked at her. "I -- I don't know what that means."

She grinned. "He wants to eat you up. You get that?"

Bucky's face heated up. Yes, that he understood. He dared to look at Steve again, though more out of his peripheral vision than straight-on, and found that, yes, Steve was watching him again. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to make out of that.

Shuri laughed at his red face. "Don't worry, White Wolf. I think you'll work it out in no time."

* * *

Night had fully taken over when Bucky and Steve returned home. The ride on the motorcycle had been cold, Bucky in only his shirtsleeves, but he allowed himself to press against Steve's back fully, his arm around Steve's waist. Even through Steve's leather coat, Bucky could feel the warmth of him.

The house was dark, and once Steve shut off the motorcycle, the only light came from the Border tribe homes in the distance. Above them, the stars shone clearly against the night sky, with nothing to dampen their light.

"Wow," Steve breathed, looking up into the sky. "This is your view every night?"

Bucky stepped up next to him so close he could feel the tickle of Steve's arm hair against his own. "Unless it's overcast," he said. He'd never quite gotten over it either. The only time he'd ever seen stars so bright was in Europe during the war. Those long missions out with the Howling Commandos, making camp in the middle of nowhere after marching halfway through the French countryside, there'd been stars like this.

"No wonder you like it here," Steve said.

Bucky smiled, and when he looked away from the sky, he could see the outline of Steve's face turned toward him. His breath caught in his throat, absolutely positive Steve was about to kiss him beneath the stars, but too afraid to make the move himself.

Steve wrapped his hand around Bucky's forearm and gave him a squeeze. "It's been a long day."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, and he turned to the house, trying not to be disappointed. There was no telling that Steve actually wanted to kiss him. He could have very easily been projecting just because he'd wanted to kiss Steve since he was twelve.

He used his kimoyo beads to unlock the door, and they went inside, the lights coming on automatically as they entered.

"I'm beat," Steve said, going directly over to the bed. He sank onto it and began unlacing his boots. He nodded toward the rolled up mat. "Where do you put that?"

"Normally right where your feet are," Bucky replied, pulling open the first button on his shirt. He motioned to the space between the rattan chairs and the coffee table. "I'll move over here, so you don't step on me."

Steve smiled and nodded, his gaze not quite on Bucky's face. "Sounds like a plan."

Bucky dawdled a little before finally stripping down to his shorts and undershirt. It wasn't being in his underwear in front of Steve that bothered him. He knew Steve's eyes were drawn to the scarring on his left shoulder. It looked even worse now that the metal plating had been pulled off. There were deep divots where metal screws had been pushed into the flesh, and lines where the plates had cut the skin.

Instead of the metal covering his entire shoulder, he now had one simple plate where the arm would have met the shoulder socket. It had screws, but those went into a metal ring, not flesh. Bucky knew there was an arm prototype in the lab for him, but no one had asked him to try it. Not yet.

"Does it hurt?" Steve asked, his eyes wide and sad.

"Not anymore," Bucky replied. He smiled because it felt like the only thing he could do to comfort Steve. "It's not so bad, not really."

Steve pulled his shirt up over his head and placed it carefully on the chest of drawers. "I'll take your word for it, pal."

Bucky moved closer to him to grab the straw mat, but was stopped when Steve placed a hand on his chest. He looked up and Steve was taking a closer look at the scarring, a frown pulling at his lips.

"Christ," he mumbled. He reached up, like he was going to the touch Bucky's shoulder, but then let his hand drop, thinking better of it.

"It's over now," Bucky said softly.

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky and pulled him in for another hug. It could have been awkward, Bucky in his underwear and Steve shirtless, but it felt right as anything. Bucky buried his face in the crook of Steve's neck and let himself be held.

* * *

Bucky woke to the sound of the cabinet doors in his kitchen banging loudly. It was less like someone rustling through them, and more like someone trying to passively wake him up.

"Steve?" Bucky asked as he sat up. He hadn't slept any worse on the floor than he did any other night, though it was still strange to wake up next to the chairs.

"Hey, Buck, where do you keep the coffee?" Steve asked. He turned away from the cabinets and in Bucky's direction. 

"Oh, I don't have any," Bucky replied, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "I avoid stimulants."

Steve blinked at him. He was still shirtless, though he'd gotten his jeans on. It was distracting. "You don't have any coffee?"

"No. I have tea."

Steve continued to stare at him, a little bit of a wild look in his eyes. "Look, I'm not trying to make this sound like an emergency, but we all have our vices. I don't care if it's shitty instant, I need some coffee."

Bucky smiled, trying not to laugh. He was the one who couldn't get moving in the morning without a cup of coffee once upon a time, and Steve was drinking tea -- the caffeine in a cup of coffee would make his heart pound and his palms sweat. Times certainly had changed. "Let me get dressed and I'll take you into town. We can get some coffee. How does that sound?"

"Good. Thank you."

It took a few minutes, but when Bucky was in his clothes for the workday and Steve had put on his black tee shirt from the night before, they were ready to ride into the city.

Bucky didn't have a car, so when he went to the city, he walked the couple of miles to the road, and then along the road for another half mile to get to the bus stop. He lived too far out for the train system. The bus would take him into the heart of the city, with stops along the way picking up passengers as it went. Everyone greeted him by name, or at least as White Wolf. He stood out, and that was why he generally chose to stay on the farm, but even he needed groceries.

Riding on the back of the motorcycle with Steve was completely different. Like the night before, Bucky was pressed against him, arm around his waist. It was comfortable. He could get used to it.

"I may have to get one of those," Bucky said, motioning back to the bike. "Though I don't know how I'd steer it."

Steve smiled for the first time that morning. "I'm sure -- Shuri has to be making you an arm, right? When you get it--"

"I don't want it," Bucky replied. "I know she has one, and I'm sure there'll be a day when I need to use it, but until then, I'm getting on just fine."

If he sounded defensive, it was because he was. Who wouldn't want a vibranium arm? It would probably be resistant to any damage the world could throw at it. But he didn't _need_ it. If it could resist damage, what sort of damage could it do?

Bucky didn't want to find out.

The merchant's row was busy with morning. Stalls were just opening, with their brightly colored awnings and the smell of cooking meat rose from another booth across the way. It was the city, but it was around the edge, away from the palace where they'd been the night before. Bucky was still getting a feel for the area, but he liked this part of town. It was vibrant, and though two white men walking through Wakanda was going to gather just as many second glances and stares as one, it was easy to feel like he could blend in, no matter how ridiculous the notion was.

"This way," Bucky said, when an awkward silence fell between them after his outburst. He took Steve down a smaller alley, with a brick wall on one side and a row of smaller stalls down the other. Near the end of the alley, Bucky stopped in front of a stall with a blue and yellow striped awning.

"Good morning, June," he said.

June was an older woman, her hair stark white, and her face lined, but when she saw him, she broke out into a grin. "White Wolf!" She eyed Steve carefully. "Who's your friend?"

"How'd you know he was with me?" Bucky asked. A beat passed and they both began to laugh. Bucky reached over and placed a hand on Steve's shoulder. "This is Steve. Best friend I've ever had. And he's in need of a cup of coffee."

She gave Steve another appraising look and then turned toward her grill, which was a huge plate of hot coals with a grate over top. Along one side covered with metal lids, and another had thick pieces of bacon frying. Next to the bacon was an beat-up metal coffee pot. It was covered in a thin sheen of brown from years of use, and sported several dents. She poured pitch black coffee into a ceramic mug and handed it to Steve.

"You drink that here, young man. Until you learn to bring your own mug."

"Yes, ma'am," Steve replied, taking the mug from her.

"You need milk? Sugar?"

"This is fine, thank you." Steve took a drink, and June watched. He swallowed and then coughed. "Maybe some milk."

She laughed again and reached under the booth to open a door. She placed a glass bottle on the counter. "You won't find a weak cup of coffee in Wakanda. And mine's the strongest. That piss you call coffee in America -- yes, I've been to Starbucks -- never again."

"Now that I've had this, I agree," Steve replied, tipping the mug to her. "Thank you."

June smiled and then looked at Bucky. "You didn't come for coffee, White Wolf."

"No, I'd rather have some breakfast. Two buns -- for each of us." Bucky knew he could easily eat two of them, and if Steve's body needed fuel like his own, he was sure Steve could pack away two, no problem.

He reached into his pocket for some money. He was on a stipend from T'Challa, though he tried to use as little of it as possible on luxuries like food stalls, but at the same time, he was just putting the money right back into the Wakandan economy, and that couldn't be a bad thing. He tried to balance it all out.

She lifted one of the huge metal lids revealing rows of fist-sized pastries. She pulled them off the grill with tongs and wrapped them in brown paper. She set them on the counter and Bucky paid her for the buns and the coffee.

They had to stay there until Steve finished the coffee, so Bucky bit right into his pastry. The outside was thick and dense, not like the flaky pastries he had a child, and the inside was filled with meat, vegetables, and gravy. It was heavily seasoned, though Bucky couldn't have said what any of the seasonings were -- he grew up on over-boiled greens with no flavor and rubbery texture. The food in the army hadn't been any better, and HYDRA, well, that was a step above protein bricks, and there had certainly been no fresh vegetables or seasoning.

Bucky let out a little moan with each bite, and Steve just watched him, smiling between sips of coffee and bites of his own bun.

"It's good, right?" he asked, nodding to the pastry in Steve's hand.

"It is," Steve replied, "but I like watching you enjoy yours even more. White Wolf, is it?"

Bucky licked some gravy off his lower lip and smiled. "It's a nickname... I'm the only white guy, I'm alone -- lone wolf, white wolf. It fits. I like it." He felt his face heat up as he described it. It sounded silly when he said it out loud, but Steve was still smiling at him. "It's better than what I had before."

Steve's gaze softened. "I like it, too."

After Steve finished his coffee, many thanks were given to June, and they started back toward the main part of the merchant's row. Bucky eyed a cotton blanket woven together in many shades of deep red. It was a lighter material than the one he wore now, and would be nice for working in the heat of the day. 

"You like it?" Steve asked. They were both still working through their second buns, but Steve had a free hand to gently touch the material. It looked soft.

"It costs more than I have," Bucky replied. "Maybe next time."

They browsed a few more stalls, but in the end, all they bought was a bag of Kenyan dark roast so Steve would have coffee in the morning without another trip.

"You have milk, right?" he asked. "If it's half as strong... I'm used to the American piss coffee."

Bucky laughed. "I've got you covered."

* * *

It was mid-morning when they arrived back at Bucky's house. Energized by the hearty breakfast, they got to work on the chicken coop, now stapling hardware cloth to the outside frame.

"Not chicken wire?" Steve asked. He was working on the top of the frame, while Bucky worked the lower half.

"Doesn't keep the predators out," Bucky replied, like he hadn't had the same question when he was compiling the materials. "Back in the States, I'd be worrying about foxes and maybe wolves. Here I've got to think about hyenas."

Steve laughed. "Doesn't sound like fun."

"I haven't _seen_ any," Bucky amended. "Maybe I'm being general. So much of this doesn't seem anything like what I thought of when I pictured Africa, but on the other hand, the Border Tribe armies ride rhinos in battle."

"No, they don't. You're joking."

"I am not. I've seen them. I'll show you one of these days."

Steve smiled. "I'd like that."

They worked for a few more minutes, and Bucky could tell Steve wanted to say something. There was something in the way his shoulders tensed up. He didn't have to be small for Bucky to recognize him. He had all the same body language, just bigger. But Bucky wasn't going to push him. He knew Steve was stubborn, and if he wasn't ready to talk, he'd dig his heels in. He'd say his piece when he was good and ready.

Finally, Steve took a breath. "Seeing you out in the world like that, it was -- it was nice. Seeing you laugh with June, I hadn't seen you laugh like that since the war. I'd hate to think I'm going to leave here in a couple of days and you'll be alone. I mean, Buck, are you making friends here?"

"A few, maybe," Bucky replied, a little surprised the subject was this benign. "I've had dinner with some of the Border tribe families, and... since I stand out so much, everyone knows me. I don't know everyone. Maybe it's not _friends_ , but it's some nice acquaintances. I've only been out of cryo full-time for a little over three months. Friends might take a bit more time."

Steve nodded slowly. "So, no dates then?"

Bucky huffed a laugh. "No, definitely not. Shuri keeps getting on me about that, like after just a couple months I'm going to want to, but I'm not..."

"Not ready?"

"Not interested? It's all a lot more complicated than just dating. I've got a whole history to contend with, and I can't put that on another person. At least not yet. Not while I'm still sorting it all out myself."

Steve was quiet, rolling out more hardware cloth. 

Bucky glanced over at him. "What about you? I know international fugitive doesn't lend itself to a lot of dating opportunities, but what about -- the blonde? What was her name again?"

"Oh, uh, Sharon?" Steve actually blushed. "No, that was... one time, uh, one time kiss. She has her career to think about and being anymore associated with me than she already is won't help. And it... I don't know, less about starting something up as it was finishing a conversation we had a long time ago."

"Sounds like a pretty good conversation."

Steve grinned sheepishly. "I guess."

Bucky placed a few staples into the wood. He was so close to Steve he could practically taste the sweat that was rolling down his neck. He tried to focus on the task in front of him. "I guess it's hard to think about dating when it's been, what, seventy years since I've been on a date? I wouldn't know what to do with myself."

"Same thing you did then," Steve replied, like it was just that simple. Bucky glanced at him, and he shrugged. "I've been out on dates."

"How does that go for Captain America?"

"It's about fifty-fifty. Women these days are a lot more forward, now that there's not so many, uh, stigmas. You both want to have sex, you have sex. You go out with a guy, you do that. There's always gonna be someone out there telling you not to, but now you can... you do it anyway."

Bucky stopped working. He didn't want to abruptly change the subject, but at the same time, he felt suddenly called out. He placed his hand in his lap and looked up at Steve. "Did you know?"

"Know?" Steve was still stapling the hardware cloth to the frame. When Bucky didn't reply, he glanced down. "Know what?"

Probably intending to look at Steve through this whole conversation, Bucky looked down at the ground. It didn't matter if Steve said the stigmas were gone. He knew it was different out there now. He'd been on the internet, he'd seen the pride parades and the notion of marriage equality. It still felt like he'd been doing something seedy. Like he should feel dirty.

"That I sometimes went with guys."

Everything was quiet except for the sound of the staple gun. Finally, Steve set it down and flopped backwards onto the ground. He rested his weight back on his hands and took a long look at Bucky. "No, I didn't know."

"Remember that pool hall down near the docks? You could find all sorts there," Bucky said with a shrug. "It seems so far away, but all those memories are fresh in my head now. Like they all came back at once. I wanted to tell you, but..."

Steve scooted closer to Bucky until they almost touching. "I get it. It wouldn't have changed a thing, but I understand why you didn't say anything."

"I should have," Bucky said. It was never the thought of Steve rejecting him that kept him from saying anything. He knew Steve was too good to toss him aside or keep him from enlisting or any of those things that happened to homosexuals. He'd just been afraid that if Steve knew he was queer, Steve would know Bucky was in love with him. It would have been so easy to put two and two together. He never wanted Steve to question if any hug went on too long or if Bucky's arm around his shoulder meant something more than it was. Bucky knew he was never getting anywhere with Steve, or at least he was sure he knew that, and he didn't want to do anything to drive a wedge there. He didn't want any lingering doubt in Steve's mind.

"I never thought about it much back then," Steve said after a few moments of silence. Bucky dared to look over at him, and Steve was gazing off just past Bucky's head toward the mountains. "I'd notice an attractive guy, but I never thought much past that. If I had, I would have just thought everyone did that. It wasn't until I came out of the ice that I thought it could be something else."

He smiled, his gaze coming back to Bucky. "And I always thought you were the handsomest guy in Brooklyn."

Bucky stared at him for a long moment, and then looked away. "Jesus, Steve," he mumbled his face heating up.

"I still think so," Steve said softly. He moved closer to Bucky so their arms were touching like they'd been the night before. "You're everything to me, Buck. After I found out you were alive, it was all I could think about."

Bucky tilted his chin up to look at Steve who was gazing at him with all the warmth in the world. His stomach coiled up with nerves as he wrapped his hand around Steve's wrist. "Are we doing this?"

Steve smiled and leaned in close, kissing Bucky gently on the lips. Bucky closed his eyes, savoring the sensation as Steve brought his other hand up to cup Bucky's cheek.

Heart pounding in his throat, Bucky opened his mouth, tasting the sweat on Steve's upper lip. He'd waited his entire life for this moment, and it was everything he imagined it would be.

* * *

Steve did his laundry wearing a pair of Bucky's sleep pants. For a moment Bucky considered offering him a shirt, but then thought better of it. Steve didn't seem bothered walking around shirtless, and Bucky didn't mind it either.

"Clothes are on the line," Steve announced as he walked through the sliding glass door. He closed it behind him and wandered over to where Bucky was sitting in one of the rattan chairs. He knelt between Bucky's legs and smiled up at him. "Hey."

"Hi." Bucky pursed his lips to keep from smiling too wide. He leaned over and kissed Steve's forehead. It was so pleasantly intimate and Steve beamed at him. God, the things Bucky knew he'd be willing to do to get Steve to look at him like that.

Steve snuggled down further, resting his head on Bucky's lap, arms wrapping around his waist. "Tell me about these guys you went with."

Bucky laughed. "What? Jealous of a bunch of dead guys?"

"A bunch, huh?"

"A few."

"Mmhm." Steve nuzzled against Bucky's inner thigh. "And they might not all be dead. There could be a guy in a nursing home somewhere in Brooklyn thinking about that time Bucky Barnes sucked him off."

"The mouth on you," Bucky said fondly, running his fingers through Steve's hair. "There's not much to say. There was only one guy I went with more than once."

Steve made a little noise and gave Bucky a squeeze. "What was he like?"

Bucky smiled. He thought of the boy in with brown hair in his eyes with the crooked nose from repeated breakings. He'd mentioned once that guys would have sex with him and then beat him for it afterward. But he never let it get him down. In retrospect, Bucky was pretty sure he had a type, and it was resilient underdogs. 

"Nice. Kind of a dandy. You know, he... he was obvious. He was real patient with me. Folks like that, you wonder what happened to them."

"Well, I'm glad you had someone. That you weren't doing it all alone."

Bucky's fingers brushed against the back of Steve's neck. "I wanted it to be you."

Steve looked up at him. "Really?"

"You've always been the best person I know. Wanting to kiss you came second nature."

With a grin, Steve extended himself to kiss Bucky. It was slow and sweet, and Bucky melted into it. Steve's hand slid under Bucky's shirt, his hand warm against Bucky's ribs.

Bucky arched into the the touch, and Steve laughed, pulling back a little.

"Feel good?" Steve asked.

"No one's touched me like that in a long time," Bucky replied. Like anytime he reminded Steve of his history, Steve's face crumpled. Bucky smiled. "So don't stop, you idiot."

Steve's features smoothed out into a smile. He pushed up Bucky's shirt and kissed the exposed skin stretched over his ribs. Bucky gasped.

" _Steve_." Bucky grasped Steve's shoulder and squeezed him so hard he heard Steve hiss, but he didn't stop. He pushed Bucky's shirt up further until Bucky shifted so he could pull off the blanket and his shirt with it.

Steve's eyes widened, taking in Bucky's exposed torso before he leaned in again to kiss his chest. His fingers drifted over a nipple and Bucky moaned. Steve grinned, his teeth grazing over Bucky's skin.

"You like that?" Steve asked, his voice low and gravelly. He thumbed Bucky's nipple again, and it sent shocks of hot arousal through Bucky's body. He was actually trembling under Steve's touch. Steve kept kissing up Bucky's body, the scruff on his chin leaving the skin irritated as he did, until he reached Bucky's neck.

"My god," Bucky breathed, his hand sliding around the back of Steve's head, pushing through his hair. He ducked his head down and caught Steve's mouth with his own. Steve moaned, and when he kissed back, it wasn't the quiet sweet kiss from earlier, it was hot and wanting, his tongue pushing into Bucky's mouth.

Bucky arched up from the chair, pressing himself against Steve. He tilted his head and kissed the side of Steve's face. "We gotta--"

Steve grinned. "You want me to take you to bed?" He dropped his hand to Bucky's crotch and palmed him through his jeans. Steve's smile faded a little. A cold tingle spread out from the back of Bucky's neck. He'd been so caught up, he'd nearly forgotten that he wasn't getting hard from it.

"You okay?" Steve asked softly.

Bucky lowered his chin, not quite meeting Steve's gaze. "I can't -- I'm -- I don't know what they did, but..." He couldn't make the words form, and thankfully, Steve didn't make him say it.

"Hey." Steve placed a warm hand on Bucky's cheek. "We can work with this. Everything else still feels good, right?"

"Yeah," Bucky whispered. Good didn't even cover it. It was overwhelming and amazing, mixed with surreal and possibly life-affirming. He could still feel every place where Steve had touched him, the echo of the imprints hot on him. He dared to look at Steve who was smiling at him. Bucky smiled back. "You still want to take me to bed?"

"You better believe it." Steve stood, and Bucky couldn't miss the way the lounge pants, slung low on Steve's hips, were tented with his erection. He reached out, his hand nearly moving of its own accord, and tugged at the elastic waistband. Steve laughed and wrapped his hand around Bucky's wrist, and pulling him up out of the chair. He kissed Bucky's temple. 

"We'll get to that," he mumbled.

Bucky shivered, leaning into Steve and kissing him again. Steve pushed against him, taking him by the hips and manhandling him toward the bed. Bucky didn't mind being maneuvered around his own house, losing himself in the feel of Steve's mouth against his own, and Steve's hand sliding around to his back.

Steve pushed Bucky down onto the bed and loomed over him, his mouth again at Bucky's ribs, but this time he began working his way down. Bucky whimpered, grasping Steve's hair in his hand.

"Like that?" Steve mumbled, his lips at Bucky's hip. When Bucky nodded emphatically, Steve popped open the button on Bucky's jeans and began tugging them down. Once the pants were on the floor, Steve ran his hands up the inside of Bucky's bare thighs and shot him a sheepish grin. "I've never -- with a guy. You might have to walk me through this."

Bucky sat up on his elbow to stare down at Steve. "It's not rocket science, Steve."

"Jerk," Steve muttered affectionately, nuzzling his face against Bucky's leg. He pressed his mouth to the inside of Bucky's thigh and tilted his face up to lick the tip of Bucky's soft cock.

Shuddering, Bucky moaned. "I don't know if -- that's -- It's not going to do anything."

"Does it feel good?" Steve asked, his thumb caressing the underside of Bucky's balls. Bucky nodded. "Then it's doing something."

Bucky laughed shakily. "It's a lot to take."

Steve winked at him. "I got you." He gently took the cock into his mouth, encasing it in in warmth. Bucky gasped, his legs spreading on instinct to give Steve more room to work. Steve responded with a little moan, vibrating around Buck's dick. His tongue teased at the slit, and his lips wrapped around the head. Bucky could feel it all the way up his spine.

"Jesus Christ -- that's -- hang on, stop."

Steve lifted his head, the cock falling him his swollen lips. "What? What's wrong?"

Bucky shook his head. "Nothing, it's good. It's just too much. I told you -- I haven't been touched in a long time. And I won't even come. It's overwhelming."

Steve considered him for a few moments. "Then we'll just have to get you used to it." 

"God." Bucky cupped Steve's cheek. "Don't you ever think about yourself?"

"Eventually." Steve turned his head and kissed Bucky's palm. "Don't worry about me, Buck. "

"I'm pretty sure that's all I ever do."

Steve laughed and moved up so he could kiss Bucky on the mouth. It was soft and warm, and Steve's erection pressed into Bucky's hip. Bucky slipped his hand under the waistband of the lounge pants and grasped Steve's cock. Steve moaned softly at the contact, thrusting into Bucky's hand.

"Take 'em off," Bucky muttered, nipping at Steve's lower lip.

Steve shimmied out of the pants, and Bucky grinned. The front of Steve was just as glorious as his backside. His cock was thick and long, and the sight of it, the feel of it in his hand, it made Bucky's mouth water.

Bucky released him. "Trade spots with me."

Grinning, Steve rolled off of Bucky and stretched out across the bed. Bucky turned onto his right side and pushed himself up onto his knees. He didn't have Steve's patience. He ducked his head between Steve's legs to get his mouth on his cock.

" _Goddamn_ , Bucky," Steve gasped, his hand pushing into Bucky's hair.

Bucky ran his tongue along the length of Steve's dick. Above him, Steve shuddered, but didn't make another noise. With a little grin, Bucky took the head into his mouth, slowly taking in more and more of the cock. He could hear Steve's breathing pick up with each inch Bucky took.

Steve's cock was glorious, thick and heavy in Bucky's mouth. He was a little too big to take the whole thing, but Bucky wrapped his hand around the base, his palm bumping against Steve's balls. Just as slowly, he began to pull back off, only to push down again. At that, Steve made a strangled sound, his fingers tightening in Bucky's hair.

"Buck, I--"

Bucky looked up, and Steve's face was flushed, biting down on his already swollen lower lip. It was exactly what he'd envisioned in all his dirty teenage fantasies. The ones that made him feel guilty and ashamed, thinking about his best friend like that, but now it was perfect. Now, all Bucky had was a warm sensation of arousal and relief. He sucked his cheeks in, enveloping Steve's cock further in soft wetness, and Steve's hips bucked.

"Fuck!" Steve hissed, now pulling at Bucky's hair, but it felt good, the pain shooting down his spine like pleasure.

With a laugh, the vibration surely driving Steve even more crazy, Bucky began fucking himself on Steve's dick in earnest, his head bobbing to the rhythm of his heart pounding in his ears. He pushed his palm up against Steve's balls, squeezing them slightly as he pulled his head back a little to concentrate more on the head of his cock.

"I'm right there," Steve said, his hips rolling. "I'm gonna--"

Bucky licked over the slit, and that was the last straw for Steve. He came almost immediately, flooding Bucky's mouth with come. Bucky swallowed down what he could, but some leaked out the sides of his mouth. He wiped his chin with the back of his hand, and then sat up. He flopped down on the bed next to Steve and Steve wrapped his arms around him.

"Thank you," Steve whispered, because of course he was the guy who thanked someone for sex.

Bucky smiled. "I love you."

He said the words without meaning to, but Steve smiled back at him. He brought his hand to Bucky's cheek, caressing him with his thumb. "I love you too, Buck."

His smile faded slightly as he gazed at Steve. Despite the change in his body, no matter all the time that had passed, Steve was same as the day Bucky fell in love with him. Bucky had transformed a hundred times over. The things he'd done, no matter the reasons why, they still hung over him. He was hardly worth anyone's love, let alone Steve's. He knew he had it, even before, with all the things Steve had done for him. Even when he tried to convince Steve he wasn't worth it, Steve still chose him over and over again.

He didn't deserve someone like Steve, and he certainly didn't deserve Steve's love. Having it didn't make him anymore worthy of it.

"You okay?" Steve asked.

Bucky smiled a little bit. "I'm just thinking about how I don't want you to leave."

Steve nodded as well as he could, his head still pressed against the pillow. "I was thinking about that too. I just got you back and then I'm going to go. I want to stay, but--"

"I know. This isn't the place for you. You're meant to be out there helping people. The world needs Captain America." Bucky snuggled in closer, resting his head on Steve's chest. "I just need this every now and again."

* * *

The morning air was cool as Bucky rode on the back of the motorcycle, his arm wrapped around Steve's waist. He'd hoped that a few days meant a few full days, but wherever it was Steve needed to be, he needed to be there sooner rather than later.

Bucky had been quiet all morning, but he tried to hold onto the smell of brewing coffee, and the sight of Steve's back through his skin tight t-shirt as he packed. Even if they'd never kissed or fucked (three times, _three_ amazing times), or if Steve were straight and none of that was even a possibility, Bucky would hold onto all of it. He had Steve back. Not just a picture in a museum telling him they were friends, but with every part of him knowing it as fact.

There weren't many people at the landing pad when they arrived: Sam and Natasha were already there, along with a few members of the king's guard.

Steve parked the bike and grabbed his duffel bag off the back with one hand, and took Bucky's hand with the other. They really hadn't discussed going public with their relationship or not, but Bucky didn't mind the display of affection.

When Natasha saw them together, she stared for a moment, and then smiled. "I'm glad you boys got that worked out."

Steve blushed as Bucky looked over at him. "Did everyone know?"

"Well, I've listened to him talk about you for longer than thirty seconds. And he told Sam."

Bucky raised his eyebrows at Steve.

"I might have mentioned it," Steve said sheepishly. "You mind?"

"I guess I don't," Bucky replied. He gave Steve's hand a squeeze.

Sam stepped out of the quinjet, already dressed in his Falcon uniform. He one look at the pair of them and his face broke out into a grin. "Heyyyyy! No wonder you guys disappeared all day."

Steve's face was positively scarlet, and it just made Bucky want to kiss him. One person had no right being that adorable. 

"Can we have a minute?" Steve asked, barely above a mumble. 

"Yeah, yeah," Natasha said, still smiling. She gave Bucky an appraising look and added, "We'll be seeing you around." She turned and walked away, not waiting for him to respond.

Steve turned to Bucky and touched his cheek like there wasn't anyone around them. "I'll be back before you know it. And I'm expecting fresh eggs."

Bucky laughed. "You'll call soon, right? So I know you're alive?"

"As soon as I can." Steve leaned in and pressed his mouth to Bucky's. Bucky made a surprised noise, wrapping his arm around Steve's body and pulling him close.

When Steve pulled back, he looked like maybe he was second-guessing leaving. His eyes were dark and hungry, like they'd been the night before. As much as Bucky wanted to keep him, he knew Steve's place was out there helping people. He wouldn't stay content long on the farm, no matter the company.

"You gotta go save the world," Bucky said softly.

"Yeah," Steve replied. He kissed Bucky again, and this time Bucky tried to remember every touch of Steve's hand on his neck, and the way his mouth moved. There was no telling how long it was going to be before they saw each other again. He needed this.

"Break it up, lovebirds," Natasha called from the quinjet's loading bay. Steve and Bucky broke apart and looked up at her. She gave them another smile, and this one seemed almost sympathetic. "It's time to go. We're on a schedule."

Steve turned back to Bucky and smiled sadly. "She's right." He kissed Bucky quickly this time and then stepped back, like he was ripping off a bandage. "Soon, okay?"

"I'm holding you to it," Bucky replied. He was glued firmly in place, but he was torn between begging Steve to let him join them, or insisting Steve stay. Instead, he did nothing. He watched Steve board the jet, and minutes later, the jet rose off the landing pad and disappeared into the sky.

* * *

Time passed. Bucky got emails from Steve, and the occasional phone call, but he couldn't live his life by them. He finished the chicken coop and got started on the small barn for his goats. He couldn't do that alone, so he enlisted the help of a few people from the Border tribe.

"I can't pay you," Bucky had said apologetically. "If that changes your mind--"

The man named N'Tando laughed and placed a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "This is the meaning of community. We don't help each other because we think we're going to get something from it. But you're gracious. If we ever need help, we'll know we can count on you."

It surprised him how much he enjoyed having all these people in his space. He'd grown accustomed to being alone, and now there were at least ten people at his house everyday, loud and boisterous, working together to build the barn. Most of them spoke in their own language, and slowly he picked it up. Hearing it and understanding was easy. Speaking it was completely different.

Then, when the storm season started, the rivers rose to record height and washed away several homes. Bucky put the barn on halt and everyone went out to the River territory to rebuild. 

It felt small compared to what Steve was out there doing, but when he saw the expression of gratitude from the families he'd helped, it didn't feel small at all. Suddenly, his evenings were packed with dinners, and cooking lessons.

One afternoon, while the group building the barn broke for lunch, a couple of the kids (they were probably in their twenties, but Bucky was finding that everyone who wasn't visibly older than him seemed so relentlessly _young_ ) began a wrestling match in the grass. Bucky watched quietly, but the others cheered and heckled until one of them was pinned.

The winner of the match, stood up triumphantly, both arms raised over his head, and hollered "Mabhuti!" Everyone cheered, Bucky included. Still grinning, he helped his friend to his feet, then turned and looked directly at Bucky. "White Wolf! You want to go the next round?"

Bucky laughed. "I wouldn't stand a chance. You've got a hand up on me."

Mabhuti shook his head, while the other chuckled at the joke. "I've seen you," he said. "You lift more with one arm than others can with two. Let's put you to the test."

"I've been through enough tests," Bucky replied shortly. He got up and started for the house. Maybe a break in the scene would let him even forget he asked. "Try Bantu, he seems game."

When Bucky passed him, Mabhuti shot his hand out to catch Bucky's arm, but before he could touch him, Bucky had his hand tightly around Mabhuti's wrist. "I said no," he growled, and then, realizing what he was doing, released Mabhuti. He swallowed and added, "Sorry."

It would have been so easy to break his wrist. Had he been any less in control, he might have done it without giving it a second thought. 

He liked the company, he liked the community, but maybe they was better off without him. 

Later, Mabhuti apologized for egging him on, and Bucky returned with an apology for grabbing him. The interaction ended with Mabhuti clapping him on the shoulder and laughing. No harm was done. But Bucky didn't forget.

* * *

Bucky hated labs and Shuri's lab was no exception. He knew no harm would come to him, but it did nothing to ease his sense of dread. She knew that and never had him stay long if she could help it. Sometimes, there had been no helping it. The weeks after cryostasis, he spent days in the lab. Now, it was a necessary evil.

"Where do you want me?" he asked. She'd called him hours before telling him to come down. He had a slight impression of what this could be about, but he didn't want to assume. At least not out loud.

"Anywhere," Shuri replied, waving a hand around. She disappeared deeper into the lab, and Bucky took stock of his surroundings.

There were tables he'd been on both sitting and laying down, as well several chairs with wheels. He opted for a chair, stepping on the brake with the heel of his boot to keep from rolling anywhere.

When Shuri came back with a black case. She sat down in another wheeled chair and rolled over to him, the long case on her lap. She opened it up and turned it toward him. Inside was a vibranium arm. It was, objectively, beautiful, in black with gold detailing.

"Do you want to try it on?"

Bucky looked away from the arm and considered Shuri. "Did your brother have you make this?"

"He did," Shuri replied simply. "This one is made for battle. I could make you one for daily use if you wanted it. How are the goats?"

"The goats are fine," Bucky replied. He'd only had them a couple of months, and they were always a good topic for distraction. "And I don't need another one. We're just trying it on today, right?"

"Yup. Take off your shirt." Shuri rolled to his left after he removed his top and she began removing the plate from his shoulder. "This is just the first prototype. It should move smoother than your old one and be more comfortable."

"Won't take much for that," Bucky muttered. His shoulder always had some level ache in it from the metal plating digging into his skin. 

She removed the plate and set it aside. "I'm going to put it on now, if that's all right."

He nodded and looked up at the ceiling. "Go ahead." He didn't want to watch while she did it. He could hear the clicking and then he felt a deep pressure as she pushed it into place. It clicked some more, and made a whirring noise.

"It's in. How's it feel?" Shuri asked.

Bucky turned his head to look at it and rolled his shoulder. The arm was heavy, but not as heavy as his last one. In fact, it felt almost as light as his flesh side. He was just unaccustomed to the weight of it. He flexed his fingers, and they responded to his mind, but perhaps with a second delay. "They aren't quite in time," he said, holding up his hand.

"Damn it," Shuri muttered. She took his wrist and held up her kimoyo beads to it. The inside schematics of the arm came up on the screen. She tapped a couple of things on the screen. "Try it again."

He wiggled his fingers and this time it was nearly in time. "Better."

"This is why we beta test," she said. She released his wrist and the screen vanished. "How are you doing?"

"With the arm?"

"Yeah. You feel like killing anyone?"

Bucky made a face. He'd made his objections about the arm known, but when she said _battle_ , she meant fighting for Wakanda. It was a noble cause, and once he certainly couldn't argue with. He'd wear the arm for that, if he had to. He knew that much.

"I feel fine," he said.

Shuri smiled. "Good. Do you want to run it through some tests?"

"What kind of tests?"

"Reflexes," she said, pointing to a punching bag in the corner. "Do you think you're up for it?"

He smiled. "I can do that."

She handed him a roll of tape. "Let's do it."

Bucky taped up his right hand and slipped off the table. He went to the bag and offered a few controlled punches when music filled the room. It was a light swing, maybe Goodman. He shot a look over at Shuri.

"It's a dance," she said. "You know how to dance to this."

He licked his lower lip and turned back around to the bag. He closed his eyes, listening to the music. He thought back to a night at the dance hall before he shipped out, in his uniform and dancing with every dame who asked him. Breathless and sweaty, Bucky had slung his arm around Steve's neck. Steve had laughed and shoved him off, and Bucky wanted to take him out on the dance floor, so he wasn't just sitting by the sidelines. The girls danced with each other, but guys never did that. It wouldn't have been right.

Bucky worked around the bag in time with the music as Shuri recorded his movements. He wasn't sure what she was looking for, but it barely mattered. His attention was on the bag, until finally she turned down the music until it dissipated completely.

"Pretty good," she said with a smile, motioning for him to come back to the table.

"That felt good," he replied. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Shuri said as she began the process of removing the arm. "I got some good footage, so I can get some more work done on it."

Bucky watched as she pulled off the arm and began replacing the plate. He swallowed. "Shuri, could you..."

She looked up at him. "Yeah?"

Luckily, his face was already flushed and sweaty from the punching bag. "Do you think you could find me a doctor? Like a proper doctor?"

She dropped her hands from his shoulder. "What the hell is a doctor going to tell you that I can't?"

"Well..." Bucky chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Things I might not want to talk about with a seventeen year old girl who can look inside my brain."

At that, Shuri laughed. "All right, all right. The privacy is yours. But, Bucky, you can talk to me. You know I'm not all laughs and jokes. If you're worried about something, I want to help."

He sighed. If he'd been certain that his problems were a result of his body being frozen so many times, that it was purely physical, he would have taken the recommendation and left. But there was still the possibility that this was in his mind. And a regular doctor couldn't help with that. Only Shuri.

"I don't know if this is my body or my head," he said slowly. He could feel his face getting hot with every word he spoke. "But, uh... I'm -- I've been -- impotent. For a long time. And -- you said you wouldn't laugh."

Shuri's face was lit up with a bright smile. "I'm not laughing. Of course you want to have sex with your boyfriend, and I understand why you didn't want to talk about it with me. I can run some scans, figure out the root of the problem, but, honestly, they make pills for that now."

"Pills?" Bucky echoed blankly. 

Now, her smile faded a little and she looked a little embarrassed. At least he wasn't the only one. "I'll set you up with a doctor. They can talk to you about your options."

He heard her, but he was still a little stuck. "They make pills for this."

"It's the 21st century, White Wolf. They make pills for everything."

* * *

Storm season had passed, but that didn't mean there were no longer storms. As the wind picked up, the sky turned an angry shade of purple. The temperature dropped quickly. It was a relief against the sun that had plagued Bucky all day, but he could feel the pressure from the oncoming storm, and it was making the goats restless.

"I know," Bucky muttered when the little black goat bleated right at him. He started herding the goats into the barn, and getting them penned up. It was early, but he didn't want to be doing this in the rain. He mentally promised them he'd be up earlier than usual to let them out. Once the sky grew more overcast, they wouldn't know the difference between storm and day.

He couldn't force the chickens to do anything, but he knew they'd take cover once it started to rain.

Sure enough, fat drops began to soak the ground beneaths Bucky's feet just as he got the last of goats into the barn, and the chickens were already making their way to the coop. He took a look around for anything he might have left out that could get blown away or destroyed.

 _Batten down the hatches_ , his mother used to say when a storm came through. There hadn't been much to do in Brooklyn, but the phrase seemed far too applicable here.

Just as Bucky turned to head home, the sky opened up and the few drops turned into a downpour. He set off in a sprint for the house, but by the time he got there, he was soaked through and freezing. He stripped out of his clothes, leaving them in a sopping pile by the front door and headed straight for the shower.

The hot water seemed to pour right through him, warming him up from the inside out, and when he grabbed a clean pair of sleep pants out of the little towel cabinet, he felt like he'd barely been in the rain at all. The house was warm, the temperature automatically adjusting as it grew cooler outside.

Throwing his towel around his neck to soak his still dripping hair, he flipped out the bathroom light, and started at the figure darkening his door. His heart was in his throat, even as he realized it was Steve.

Steve's hair was nearly shoulder length, and he sported a full beard. It was almost an unnatural look for him, and he was practically unrecognizable, if not for the blue and white Captain America uniform and the fact that Bucky would know Steve anywhere. He appeared to be as soaked through as Bucky had been moments earlier, water running down the side of his face.

Bucky's jaw dropped and he stared. Lightning flashed on the other side of the sliding glass door behind him, filling the room with bright light for a moment. He knew he should be saying something, doing anything, but the whole thing was so dreamlike, he was rooted to the floor.

He hadn't heard from Steve in weeks. Bucky tried not to be worried as time passed. He knew there would be times when they would be completely out of contact, but he certainly hadn't expect Steve to just appear in his house without warning.

"You're here," Bucky said finally as the thunder rolled around them.

"I'm here," Steve said. He shut the door with a slam, and strode across the room with purpose. He grabbed Bucky and kissed him with an urgency Bucky could feel throughout his whole body. Bucky opened his mouth, and Steve pushed in his tongue like he needed to posessively feel every bit of him. It was hot, but it wasn't right. There was an underlying neediness, a desperation that Bucky had never felt in Steve's kiss, or his embrace, not like this.

Bucky broke off the kiss and pushed his hand up into Steve's hair. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Lightning flashed again, and this close, Bucky could see the pain in Steve's eyes. Steve set his jaw and shook his head. "Can we talk about it later? Can we just...?" His hand slid down Bucky's bare back to the waistband of his pants. "Please?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course." Bucky reached for the zipper on the side of Steve's armored shirt and with a little help from Steve, they got it off. It fell to the floor with a thump. When he thought Bucky wasn't looking, Steve looked absolutely ruined.

Bucky had a bad feeling about all of this. Steve didn't show up without warning, looking like hell, and desperately wanting sex because everything was fine. Something happened out there, and if Steve needed reprieve, Bucky was going to give it to him. He kissed Steve's cheek, a barest brushing of his lip over the beard. "I'm going to take care of you, okay?"

Steve nodded, and he looked almost relieved that he didn't have to be in charge. He didn't have to make orders. He was pliant as Bucky maneuvered him toward the bed, kicking off his boots when prompted, and allowing Bucky to pull off the rest of his clothes. Steve shivered, even in the warmth of the house.

Bucky dropped his own pants and slipped into the bed next to Steve, pulling the thick quilt over them both. He curled around Steve's body, kissing his bare shoulder. "I've got you," he whispered, before reached around to the nightstand for the lube. He pumped some into his hand and tucked himself back under the blanket.

"You ready for this?" Bucky asked, touching Steve's backside with his smallest finger, that hadn't been completely coated in lube. Steve pushed against him, and he moaned when Bucky pressed two slicked up fingers into him.

Steve reached back with one arm squeezed Bucky's hip. "God, Buck."

It was difficult to find anything arousing in Steve's apparent distress, but as Steve moaned when Bucky carefully added a third finger, Bucky felt something stir. He pulled his hand away, inciting another moan from Steve, before rubbing his half-hard cock against the line of Steve's ass.

Steve buried his face in the pillow, but his hand gripped Bucky tighter.

Bucky stroked himself a couple of times, and then slowly pushed in. The groan he elicited was invigorating. Bucky pressed his lips to the back of Steve's neck and rocked further into him. He shifted his hips slightly, drawing little sounds from Steve with each movement. 

"Is that good?" Bucky asked quietly. He draped his arm over Steve's waist, his hand grazing over Steve's cock. He was barely hard, but his hips canted at the contact. He didn't say anything, just nodding furiously into the pillow. His breathing changed, a hitch in his ragged breath, and Bucky realized Steve was crying. 

Politely, Bucky pretended not to notice, but kissed along the line of Steve's shoulder, making soothing little noises.

In the end, neither of them finished, the sex just sort of ending. Bucky pressed himself flush along Steve's body and held him until he fell asleep. But Bucky stayed awake for a long time after that, listening to the storm outside.

* * *

Bucky was reluctant to get out of bed and leave Steve alone, but he remembered his promise to the goats to let them out early. He had storm damage to assess. He couldn't laze in bed, no matter how reasonable it sounded.

He pressed a kiss to Steve's shoulder, but Steve didn't wake. Bucky smiled a little, glad that Steve was resting.

Once Bucky got down to the farm, the sky was orange and red with sunrise. There didn't seem to be much damage, besides a few shingles off the chicken coop. The chickens were unperturbed and pecking at his boots for breakfast. He started on his routine, and when he was milking the last goat, he heard the barn door open.

"Steve?"

"I brought you tea," Steve replied as he seamlessly stepped over one of the little goats with both hands full of their respective mugs. "But you're busy."

Bucky smiled up at him. He hadn't had time or the presence of mind to really take in Steve's appearance, but even after the solid rest, there were dark circles under his eyes and he looked like he'd lost weight, dressed in jeans and one of Bucky's undershirts. His long hair was still really throwing Bucky off, even now, pulled back in a ponytail. 

"I'll just be another minute," Bucky said, quickly turning his gaze back to his work. "You can set it down over there."

"Sorry for just showing up like that," Steve said softly after a few moments.

Bucky looked up again and Steve was leaning against the stable wall, cupping a single mug in both hands. He was looking down at the floor, a slight frown on his face.

"You don't have to apologize. I'm glad you came. If you -- if you need me, you know where I am." Bucky turned back to the goat, his bucket nearly full. He released her and gave her a gentle tap on the backside to indicate she could go. She scampered off to join her kids.

With a sigh, Bucky stood and went to Steve, wrapping his arm around Steve's waist. "You're always welcome. Even in the middle of the night. What's the point otherwise?"

Steve turned his head and kissed Bucky gently on the mouth. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

He rested a hand on Bucky's cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too," Bucky replied immediately, but not without a confused lilt to it. "Are you okay? Do you want to -- talk about it?"

Steve shook his head. He kissed Bucky softly and pulled back. "Do you mind?"

"No, it's fine." There were a million things he didn't want to tell Steve about his past. If Steve had one bad experience he wanted to keep to himself, Bucky understood, even as it ate at him. Bucky reached around and tugged gently on Steve's ponytail. "Can I cut your hair?"

Steve actually laughed. "Is it that bad?"

"I hate it so much," Bucky replied, but he laughed too. He thought about the last time Steve was there, with the curled tendrils at the nape of his neck. He had liked that, but this was ridiculous.

"What about the beard?" Steve brought his hand to his chin. "Because I kind of like it."

"The beard can stay."

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but before he got a word out, there was a crash outside. He looked alarmed, but Bucky just rolled his eyes and headed out of the cooler and into the warm morning sun.

" _What are you doing?_ Bucky called in poor Xhosa to the three Border boys who had knocked over the stack of metal pails that were outside the cooler waiting to be cleaned. " _You have somewhere else to be?_ "

All three boys, barely eight years old, looked up him with wide eyes. The one in the middle shook his head. Bucky recognized him as Samkelo, who was a bit of a leader among the children his age and younger in the tribe. He was also a bit of a troublemaker, but those things often went hand-in-hand.

" _Pick it up._ " Bucky smiled, knowing his broken language sounded sharper than he intended. " _Go play._ "

Samkelo moved toward the pails, but stopped when Steve stepped out behind Bucky. "Captain America?" he asked in English.

"Hey, kids," Steve said, his tone going into pure Cap-mode, as if he were about to film a PSA on the importance of brushing your teeth.

Bucky's smile spread into a grin. " _You want to play with_ Captain America? _Did you brought your_ football?"

"Yeah!" one of the kids Bucky didn't know exclaimed. He grabbed Samkelo's arm and said something in such rapid Xhosa Bucky couldn't even keep up with him, though he picked out the words _White Wolf_. Quickly, the boys had the pails back in their stacks, and one was running back to grab his rucksack.

"Did I just get recruited?" Steve asked.

"You did." Bucky shifted so he could give Steve's ass a tap, not unlike the one he'd given the goat earlier. "Go have fun."

Steve blinked at him, and then slowly, he smiled, jogging after the boys, who were already kicking the ball around. Bucky smiled, watching them. He still had work to do, but what he really wanted to do was watch Steve laugh as he played football, three against one.

"Hey stranger."

Bucky turned, and saw Natasha and Sam coming toward him. Natasha had been the one who had spoken, and he gave them a wave. Like Steve, they both looked a bit worse for the wear, Natasha's hair stringy and Sam also sporting a beard, though his appeared to be slightly more well kept than Steve's. 

"What the hell is he doing?" Sam asked, his gaze set out on Steve.

"Football. I bet if you ask nicely, they'll let you play too," Bucky replied. Sam hesitated for a second, knowing he was being patronized, before he bolted.

Bucky chuckled, but sobered as he turned to Natasha. "How are you doing?"

"Better than those guys," she replied.

"Can you tell me what happened? Steve didn't want to talk about it and I wasn't going to push, but..."

It was fine if Steve wasn't going to tell him. But whatever happened, it took a part of Steve with it, and only time would heal it. Bucky needed to know, and he knew Natasha would tell him.

She sighed, sounding weary, but she didn't say no. "We've been on this island off of the coast of Haiti for a few months, Corpacalla. The whole island is run by the mob. The police, the government, it's all mafia."

"And everyone else lives in poverty," Bucky said.

"You've heard of it?" Natasha asked.

He shook his head. "No, but that's how they all go."

"Yeah. Well, when we got there, we found out they were trafficking kids. Sex, informants, soldiers, suicide bombers, you name it, they had kids in it. It took... it took time to infiltrate." There was a sharpness in her tone that told Bucky not to ask how they did that. He kept his mouth closed as she continued.

"Finally," she said, "we got in, and when we went to get the kids out, they... they didn't know we were there to rescue them. They were scared, and others tried to -- it was bad." She looked away from Bucky, out to where Steve and Sam were both laughing as Samkelo snagged the football away from them. Her face was an unreadable mask. "It broke his heart. He knew, but to see them like that, it just broke him. And we see a lot of fucked up shit, but that one was too far. It just, it broke him. Sam wasn't there to see it, but he figured it out pretty quickly."

Bucky let out a breath, realizing his fist was clenched. "Did you take down the mob?"

"It's a tightly coiled network. It's better, but it's probably not gone. We have friends who are... looking into it."

He wasn't sure what that meant, but he hated that they hadn't killed every single one of them. That wasn't their style. Well, at least not Steve's. Natasha probably snapped a few necks. It probably wrecked Steve knowing they left without cleaning out every dirty hole on the island, adding to his misery.

"They aren't like us," Natasha said suddenly.

Bucky turned to look at her. She was still watching Steve and Sam. He'd never really considered himself like her, but the way she said it, the context, the contrast of the two of them against Steve and Sam, it made sense. They had seen a darkness in the world and accepted it. Steve saw darkness in the world and tried to change it.

If she felt his eyes on her, she didn't let on. "Maybe that's why we're drawn to them. They have something we lost a long time ago."

If she hadn't been standing to his left, Bucky would have reached out to touch her, but he wasn't going to make an awkward show of it. 

"What do you think they see in us?" he asked.

That made Natasha turn to him. "I don't know."

He could have implored further, but instead offered, "You and Sam?"

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "A very annoying man once told me that he was looking for a partner with shared life experience. It worked out for him, so I thought I'd give it a shot." Then, as if she was suddenly shy, though that seemed impossible, she quickly added, "It's still pretty new."

"Does Steve know?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "You think anyone can keep a secret on that jet? Besides, Steve and Sam tell each other everything."

Bucky stiffened slightly. "Everything?"

"Within reason. We try to keep it quiet around him. No third wheels."

Sometimes, Bucky got jealous of Natasha and Sam, with all the time they spent with Steve, the closeness of the three of them. It was something he couldn't permeate from far away. And while he knew Steve missed him, he had this whole other, exciting life. The thought of Steve having something to be jealous of had never occurred to Bucky.

Natasha reached over and placed her hand on Bucky's shoulder. He looked at her apologetic face. "We can't stay. We weren't even going to come here, but after... I knew he needed you. And Sam needed a break. I made the call. But we're going to head back out tomorrow. We're already late."

He could have protested, insisted that they stay longer just because he desired it. But he couldn't think about himself, because none of the rest of them did that either. He shifted, leaning into her contact. "You're allowed to need a break, too."

"I like it here, but it's not my place like it is for you and Steve."

"Where would you go?"

She smiled. "Home."

He didn't ask her to elaborate. They turned and watched the football game for a few minutes before Natasha spoke up again.

"Steve would never ask, but if you ever wanted to come with us..." She trailed off, and Bucky turned to look at her. "You can."

Bucky smiled. He liked the thought of getting to stay with Steve, of getting to know Sam and Natasha better. He liked the thought of going out into the world and helping people. Maybe staying on his little plot of land was selfish when he had the tools to do something more.

But could he really trust himself out there?

He shook his head. "No, my place is here now."

"That's what I thought you'd say," Natasha replied. "The offer stands."

* * *

More time passed.

Bucky woke to the sound of his kimoyo dinging. It wasn't his alarm, and most days he woke before the alarm anyway. He blinked a couple of times before he realized it was the Captain America alert. It happened every so often, but not always at two in the morning. Usually it was a sighting, or someone recalling had Captain America had saved them, despite being a wanted fugitive, and every few weeks, a new Change.org petition to pardon Steve went up.

Bucky almost waved it away without reading it, but he caught the headline out of the corner of his eye and sat up in bed.

**CAPTAIN AMERICA: CAPTURED.**

He pulled up the article and read over it quickly. It was pretty basic, with little information, just that Steve had been detained, along Natasha and Sam, somewhere in the Americas, which hardly narrowed it down. It must have just happened.

Bucky was about to send a message to Shuri when one from her appeared on his screen: _I'm on it._

Good. One less thing he had to worry about. He knew she would be able to get the information he needed. What had happened, where Steve was, and most importantly, how Bucky was going to get him out. These days, they build prisons with people like Steve in mind. He wouldn't be able to punch his way out, not like he may have been able to do eighty years earlier.

It was possible that everything was going to work out without interference from Bucky. The public was generally on Captain America's side, but that would make it that much easier for them to make an example of him. No one was higher than the law, not even Captain America. It seemed an awful lot more likely that Steve would end up locked away, never to see the light of day, until it turned out they needed him.

Bucky got out of bed and dressed as efficiently as he could. He looked around his small home for anything he could need, but there was nothing. Everything in the house was meant for a simple, quiet life. What he was about to do was anything but that.

He walked out the door and didn't look back as he headed toward the city. He walked quickly, covering as much ground as possible, while he sent Shuri a message: _Meet me in the lab._

A few seconds later, her reply came: _Already there._

Bucky kept moving. He could see well enough in the darkness not to stumble, and he moved even faster one he reached the road, with no concern for fallen branches or sudden holes in the ground. He got the lab in the half the time it would have typically taken him, and when he arrived, Shuri was waiting for him, an open case with the arm she'd been developing sitting next to her.

"You need a car," she said, hopping down off the table. She was dressed head to toe in black, with black boots.

"What I need is that arm," Bucky replied. "And probably some guns."

"I thought you'd say that. Have a seat and I'll tell you what I know."

Bucky removed the blanket and his shirt before climbing onto the table. He knew getting the arm on wasn't a quick process, just from the few fittings he'd had with it. Time was already getting away from him.

"They were caught in Paraguay, and as we're talking right now, they're being transported to a high security prison in Brazil. It's on an U.S. military base. It was built to house -- maybe not Hulk, but it'll keep in Captain America. They had starting springing up in the aftermath of Sokovia in conjunction with the accords. For people like him." She finished taking off the plate in his shoulder and began working on the arm itself.

"Are they transporting them on the ground?" Bucky asked.

Shuri shook her head. "It's a relatively quick helicopter ride, and taking their jet with them to get sent back to the U.S.. When they get to the prison, they're only going to be there for about twenty-four hours. Just until the U.S. military or whoever is in charge these days can get them. From there, you know it's some underground sea prison, or whatever it is they do in your country."

"So I need to get to them before they leave the prison in Brazil."

"You?" Shuri set down the arm she was just about to attach to Bucky's shoulder. "I think you mean we."

Bucky stared at her. He realized she wasn't just wearing a black shirt, but a lightweight tactical garment, surely lined with vibranium. "No, I don't think so. You know what ruins my good standing as a guest of Wakanda? Getting their princess killed."

Shuri appeared unimpressed, her jaw setting, and she reminded him frighteningly of T'Challa. "I did not ask if I could join you. I'm telling you. I'm coming."

"There are a thousand things you can do to help from this lab, you don't need to--"

She held up the arm. "Do you want this? Do you want the guns? Do you want to get out of here as fast as possible?"

Bucky swallowed and nodded.

"Then shut up. I'm going with you." She shoved the arm into the socket, and Bucky ground his teeth as the wires connected to nerves. It hurt, but not nearly as much as other things Bucky had endured over the years. Mostly, it just felt strange, the connection of tissue to the mechanical.

He gave his metal fingers an experimental flex, and sure enough, they moved, just as a flesh hand would. It moved even smoother than his HYDRA arm did, and Bucky knew the vibranium was stronger than the metal arm ever could have been. This arm was going to survive him a hundred times over, even at the rate he was going.

Shuri pointed to a partitioned area. "I've got clothes for you back there. We'll stop at the armory on the way to the jet."

Bucky changed out of his old boots and dirty work pants and into the vibranium-lined gear Shuri had set out for him: a black shirt that looked like a larger version of the one she was wearing, only without a left arm, a black vest, new boots, and a pair of pants. The pants came with a knife strapped to one leg and a heavy belt with several compartments, each probably filled with gadgets.

He stepped out from behind the partition just as Shuri was zipping up her own vest. "I'm stating for the record that this is a bad idea," he said, frowning at her.

"Record confirmed," she replied, crossing her arms over her chest. "Look, you don't want to do this alone, and I know for a fact, that Wakanda can't publicly come in and take a known fugitive out of prison. My brother is the face of a country. His army can't come to the rescue. To the rest of the world, I'm no one."

"You're not no one. I don't care how it looks to the rest of the world, I care about you not getting killed or getting thrown in prison yourself."

Shuri sighed. "I come, I stay in the jet. Emergency backup only."

Relief flooded Bucky's system. It was a compromise he could deal with. "Done. Let's go."

* * *

After a pitstop at the armory, they headed down to the hangar. Bucky had expect the lights to be off, being the middle of the night and all, but the hangar was bright as a beacon and Okoye was standing in front of the door.

"Okoye," Shuri said, as though it were an improbable coincidence they were all here at the same time.

"You can't possibly believe that you're the only ones with certain alerts," Okoye said. That was when Bucky noticed she wasn't dressed in her general's uniform. Like them, she was dressed in black. She surveyed them carefully. "Let's go."

"Are you serious?" Shuri asked. She went to Okoye's side and intertwined their arms. "You're going to come on our rescue mission?"

"I'm certainly not going to let you go by yourselves," she replied, and turned with Shuri into the hangar. Bucky, still too keyed up to feel anything resembling fear or relief, followed them.

It took twelve hours.

Most of the time was spent planning. Shuri had the blueprints of the base and Bucky didn't ask her how she obtained the complete layout of a U.S. military base. Even if he cared, he probably wouldn't understand it.

When the plan was set, with both Bucky and Okoye reminding Shuri that she would be running interference solely _from the jet_ , Bucky tried to get a little sleep. Mostly, he stared at the ceiling, illuminated by blinking lights from the jet's navigation system. He kept clenching his metal fist, feeling the raw power behind the vibranium arm. Everything he had tried to suppress over the last year and a half, he allowed it back into his system.

This was the one situation he wanted most to avoid, and yet here he was. He knew what needed to be done, and whatever it took, he was willing to do it. He and Steve kept losing each other, and even now that they were together, they were constantly pulled apart. He wasn't going to allow Steve to be taken from him again.

Bucky must have drifted off eventually, because the next thing he could recall was Shuri shaking him gently by the shoulder. "We're descending," she said in a hushed tone.

"Are you nervous?" he asked as he sat up.

"It's not my first mission," she replied confidently, but her wide eyes betrayed her. Her shoulders sagged slightly. "I'm just usually still in the lab. I'm ready to get them and get out."

He reached out and squeezed her arm with his flesh hand. "Me too."

They landed a mile outside the border of the base in the forest. Bucky slung the rifle over his shoulder and looked over at Okoye. There wasn't anything to say. She nodded, and they started silently through the woods.

It was the quiet hours of the morning, and getting in was surprisingly easy. Shuri had a lock-decoding device that could be used on any digital lock with a six-to-ten digit access code. She had also mapped out where all the security cameras were, and they had a route to avoid them. The ones they couldn't avoid were taken out with a little device Shuri had that basically took any camera in range and made the image still so they could get through.

There were two different locations for the holding cells. One was standard, and that was where they assumed Natasha and Sam were being held. The other was the one designed to contain something bigger.

Okoye and Bucky separated. He'd seen the layout, he knew where the cameras were. He just had to avoid being seen by anyone. He had expected there to be guards, but there was just another digital lock and cameras he effectively disabled. The door opened to a long hallway.

Bucky crept along the wall until the cinderblock turned into a clear material. It wasn't glass, it had to be stronger than glass, but it revealed a simple cell: a toilet, a sink, and a bed with a single light overhead. Steve sat on the bed, with his head bowed, his fingers loosely locked together.

Bucky let out a quiet sigh. Be able to see him, to see Steve alive and breathing, it was everything Bucky could do not to slump over with relief, but he couldn't let his guard down yet. They still had so far to go. He plugged the lock-decoding device Shuri had given him into the number pad next to the cell door.

"Hey, soldier," Bucky said, glancing through the clear wall. 

Steve lifted his head. "Bucky?"

Bucky had prepared a smile, but when he saw Steve's face, his jaw went slack. All the breath was suddenly gone from his lungs. He should have known that Steve wouldn't have been contained without a fight, but this was -- it was not what he expected. Steve's eyes were hollow with deep bruising, and his cheekbones were mottled with black and purple. His lip was split, his beard bloody, and he had another cut along his forehead, leaving his blond hair crusted with dried blood.

"Jesus," Bucky muttered, as Steve got to his feet and approached the wall. He knew better than most how quickly cuts and bruises healed in a body like Steve's, and the fact that hours later he still looked this bad, it made Bucky's stomach drop. "Please tell me they didn't do this to you after you got here."

"What are you doing here?" Steve asked. He ignored Bucky's statement, which didn't give him a very good feeling about it.

"What do you think I'm doing here?" Bucky glanced down at the number pad. The device seemed to be doing its job. He turned his attention back to Steve. "Did you think I wouldn't come for you?"

Steve hesitated, wincing as he swallowed. "This is exactly the sort of thing you wanted to avoid."

There was a tightness in Bucky's throat. He'd burn down the world to get to Steve, and he thought Steve knew that. It was the only thing he could do after everything Steve had done for him. Finally, Bucky said, "It's you."

Steve nodded, and he looked like he maybe had something else to say on the subject, but he shook his head slightly, more to himself than to Bucky. "I -- I don't know where they took Sam and Nat. Sam was injured pretty badly. But they have to be taking care of him. He's a U.S. citizen and this is a military base."

Bucky placed a finger the comm device in his ear. "Status?"

Steve's eyes widened. "Who else is here?"

Bucky held up a finger to keep him quiet. There was a long pause on the other end of the comms, which didn't mean anything bad on its own, but the longer it went on, even only several seconds, it made him anxious. Finally, Okoye responded.

"I have Black Widow. We're getting Wilson now."

"Okoye's got Natasha," Bucky said to Steve, who looked concerned at the long pause. "They're going for Sam now."

Relief spread across Steve's broken face. "Good."

The lock-decoder beeped quietly, and a second later, the cell door opened. Steve pushed past it and had his arms around Bucky in an instant. His weight sagged against Bucky's body, and Bucky held him up with the added strength of his left arm. He'd never felt Steve so _weak_ against him, not even after Corpacalla, or when Steve topped out at ninety-five pounds. Even sick in bed he was a firecracker. Now, Bucky held the opposite of that in his arms, and the cold realization of what the last twelve hours had been like for Steve spread through Bucky like ice.

Steve didn't just think Bucky wasn't coming for him. He didn't think anyone was.

"Hey," Bucky whispered as he dragged his fingers through Steve's hair, "we gotta go. Hugging later."

Steve nodded against Bucky's shoulder, but didn't immediately pull away. Slowly, he steadied himself and then stepped back. "Let's go."

Bucky grabbed the decoder and stuffed it back in his pocket. He motioned for Steve to come with him from the way he'd come, but stopped when he heard Shuri's voice in his ear.

"The door must have triggered a silent alarm, Bucky. There's four guards coming your way, and probably more after that."

Bucky glanced at Steve. "Guards. Four of 'em."

On his way in, Bucky had the advantage of surprise. If they even suspected something was wrong, they'd be prepared for it. At least this time he had Steve, though there was no telling what kind of physical condition Steve was in for a fight.

Steve just nodded and straightened his shoulders.

Bucky leaned against the wall at the corner and glanced down the hallway. Clear. He motioned with his head for them to keep moving. 

They made it about twenty steps down the hall when the four guards turned the corner. Each one of them was dressed in tactical gear and bearing handguns, out and ready to shoot.

Bucky charged them, left arm up. The guard in the front of the formation shot at him, but the bullet just ricocheted off the vibranium. With his right hand, Bucky grabbed the gun out of his hand and slammed the butt of it upward into the guard's chin before throwing the gun aside. With the guard disarmed, he sort of tossed the guy back to Steve. 

He took out the next guard with a punch to the gut, and taking the gun easily out of his hands. He threw that guy back to Steve as well before taking on the last two. He slammed his left elbow into the nearest guard's head, as he grabbed the last one by the back of his jacket and shoved him against the wall. 

The next few seconds were a blur. Bucky could hear the sounds of Steve fighting behind him, and the thump of his own fists against skin as the guards kept coming back for him, no matter what he did. He felt the crack of bones as he snapped the neck of one of the guards. He didn't even know which one at this point. They were the same, just another enemy to fight. 

The remaining guard must have snatched one of the abandoned guns from the floor, because he had it pointed directly at Bucky's face, merely inches away. Bucky took hold of it and turned it around on the guard, and fired. His body slumped to the floor, and everything came back into focus. 

Bucky turned to Steve, who had both of his guards down, though they were still breathing. Steve was staring at him, his expression unreadable.

The sinking realization of what had happened weighed heavy and suddenly on Bucky's shoulders. He had just killed two men in front of Steve. No, to protect Steve. No, it was more than that. Bucky was still a weapon. He was a ticking time bomb with a trigger. It wasn't words from a notebook anymore. It was Steve.

"Let's go," Steve said. Like his face, his tone was flat, giving nothing away.

Bucky didn't stop until they were on the jet. Okoye was waiting for them in the cockpit, and moments after the door was closed, they were in the air. Bucky moved through the jet to find a hospital-type bed set up and Shuri fussing with an IV. Sam was stretched out on the bed, unconscious. Natasha was standing over him, her face reminding Bucky a little bit of Steve's: flat and emotionless.

"How is he?" Steve asked.

"He'll live," Shuri replied. "That's all I know right now. I can tell you more in a couple hours."

Her expression unchanging, Natasha curled her hand around Sam's.

Bucky went over to the far side of the room and got a chair. It was straight-backed and probably wasn't meant to be sat in for hours, but he brought it over to Natasha and set it down next to her. "It's a long flight."

She nodded and sat down. Her gaze moved past him and she nodded over his shoulder. 

He turned and Steve was standing at the end of the bed. He was no longer flat. In fact, he looked like he was about to start crying. 

"Come on," Bucky said, resting his hand on Steve's shoulder. He felt for any sign of Steve pulling away from him, but there was none. "Let Shuri do her work, okay?"

Steve nodded and he turned away, allowing Bucky to lead him over to the little alcove where he had slept on the flight there. He stretched out as well as he could and Steve climbed wordlessly on top of him. Bucky wrapped his arms around him and closed his eyes. He didn't sleep, but he liked the feeling of having Steve in his arms.

* * *

Getting Sam to medical was the first priority when they landed in Wakanda. Bucky had managed a little sleep on the flight home, comforted by Steve's weight on his chest, but when he woke up, he could hear the soft wheezing of Sam's breath. From the little Okoye had said about the medical care at the military base, it wasn't great, but traveling was worse when he was barely stable.

None of that was Bucky's territory, so he stepped back as Steve and Natasha helped Shuri get Sam moved. He was caught up in watching them carefully maneuver the gurney out of the jet, that he almost missed the sensation of a presence behind him. Almost. He turned and found T'Challa standing there.

Shit.

While T'Challa appeared calm, hands behind his back, expression neutral, it only took him one step forward for Bucky to know that he was not happy.

Bucky lowered his gaze in deference. "Your Highness."

"White Wolf. You leave in the middle of the night night with my general and my sister for an impromptu trip to South America, without so much as a word to me?" T'Challa took another step closer, and Bucky dared to look up. He was still cool on the outside, but those steps were taut.

"It was an emergency. Shuri said she left a note."

"Ah, yes. 'Gone to save Captain America. Back soon.'"

If Bucky hadn't been so wired at the thought of T'Challa banishing him from Wakanda, he would have laughed. _Of course_ that's the note Shuri left.

T'Challa took another step, only an arm's length away from Bucky now. "You're both incredibly lucky that Okoye has more foresight than either of you and was in contact with me the entire time. I knew what you were doing before you ever left Wakandan soil."

Bucky's shoulders lowered slightly. He'd been so wrapped up in saving Steve, it never occurred to him that obviously Okoye wouldn't do anything so rash without the okay from T'Challa. On this side of the information, it seemed ridiculous to ever assume otherwise. That didn't absolve him, however.

"Still, I..." Bucky took a deep breath. "I take responsibility for my actions. I had blinders on. I couldn't see anything else but getting to Steve. I did -- I tried to tell Shuri to stay. I would never put her in danger, but I also wouldn't have gotten out of there without her." As a final plea, he offered, "She stayed in the jet the entire time."

T'Challa stared at him levelly for a long time, so long Bucky began to feel deeply uncomfortable. Finally, his gaze shifted to Bucky's left arm. "How did the arm perform?"

Bucky blinked. That wasn't what he was expecting. He lifted his arm slightly. "Very well. Better than my old one."

"And do you like living in Wakanda, White Wolf?"

"I love it," Bucky replied with no hesitation. Behind T'Challa, he could see the sky turning purple with sunrise. "This is my home."

T'Challa smiled. It wasn't his warm smile that he bestowed to Shuri or Nakia, but he was pleased. "I understand your resistance to violence and I respect it. I also know what you did to get Captain Rogers out of that prison. You did it, as you said, with blinders on. If it was necessary, would you do the same for Wakanda?"

"Yes." Again, Bucky didn't hesitate.

"Good. I'll hold you to that." T'Challa's smile spread. "Go to see to Captain Rogers."

Bucky lowered his gaze again. "Thank you," he said before turning away. He'd been tired, even with his sleep on the jet, but after that conversation, he felt wired. It was a good thing too. He had a day's worth of chores to see to once he got home.

In the medical ward, Bucky found Steve sitting on a table, his elbows on his knees, and his chin resting in the cup of his hand. Sometimes, he looked like he still didn't know what to do with the bulk of his body, so he just moved around it.

"How's Sam?" Bucky asked softly, as not to startled him. Steve jerked anyway.

"In surgery," he replied. "There was a nurse who wanted a look at me, I told her it was fine, but... she's with Nat now. Where were you?"

"Talking with T'Challa." Bucky moved closer to Steve and took his hand. "He's not mad, he's just disappointed."

Steve smiled, and it looked strange on his bruised face. "I doubt it's the first time." He looked down at the vibranium hand holding his own. "Can you feel that?"

Bucky nodded. "Not like skin, but... pressure. Warmth. There's no pain when it's hit, though. I can just keep going."

Steve reached up with his other hand and grazed his fingers through Bucky's hair. It was such a gentle, intimate motion that it made Bucky's knees go weak and his stomach churn.

Before either of them could say another word, a woman wearing scrubs walked through the door. "Captain Rogers."

"Ode," Steve greeted her with a half hearted smile. "I told you, I'm fine."

"And I told you, if you broke a bone and your accelerated healing took over before it was set properly, you'll never get over it, so let me have a look at you." Ode glanced over at Bucky skeptically, and before she could question him, Steve held up a hand.

"He's fine to stay. He's just not going to like this." Steve pulled his hand away from Bucky's and unzipped his armored shirt with the classic star insignia. He wore a black shirt beneath it, and he carefully peeled that off, revealing a torso covered in bruising.

Bucky gasped. "Jesus Christ, Steve."

"I told you you weren't going to like it," Steve muttered. He gave Ode his tired smile again. "How's Natasha?"

"Cuts and bruises, but she's fine." Ode pressed a gloved hand to Steve's ribs. "She wasn't put through the wringer like you were."

"I tend to make a target of myself," Steve replied lightly, almost as if he were joking. His face twisted as she pushed against him. "I think that one might be broken."

"I think you're right," Ode said.

Bucky turned away from them. He couldn't stand looking at the bruised mess Steve had become. Even after twenty-four hours, his body, super healing and all, was still clinging to the pain. How deep did the bruising go? This wasn't from a fight, this was from a beating. Fury sparked beneath Bucky's skin and traveled through his body like a wildfire. He was glad he wasn't still holding Steve's hand, or he may have crushed it beneath his metal fist.

"Buck?"

He looked over at Steve and tried for a smile, but he knew it was weak. "I think you're in capable hands. I need to get to the farm."

"I'll meet you there later," Steve said, and Bucky nodded as he made a hasty exit.

He could have walked back home, but with both arms, he borrowed one of the motorcycles Steve liked so much to get there faster. As righteous as his reasonings were for leaving the farm unattended, it made no difference to the goats and the chickens. They needed to be taken care of.

Like he never left, Bucky went through his chores like he was on autopilot. Everything was made easier by having a left arm (one goat was particularly skittish of it, and Bucky couldn't blame her), but when he was done hours later, he couldn't wait to take it off. With some instructions from Shuri, he disegenged the arm from his shoulder and set it on the kitchen counter.

After attaching one of the plates to his shoulder, showered and changed into loose fitting pants and a white tank top. He secured his soft red blanket over his left shoulder. He felt like himself again, but it made him realize how easy it was to become complacent. 

Bucky dozed in his chair, and didn't realize he'd actually fallen asleep until he felt a hand on his shoulder giving him a gentle shake. He opened his eyes and Steve was standing above him. Whatever procedures or medicine they'd given him, it worked. The bruising was fainter, finally, and he looked a bit more like himself. Less hollow.

"I didn't want to wake you, but... I did anyway," Steve said before sitting down in the chair across from Bucky. "Sam's in recovery. If, uh, if you hadn't gotten us out of there, he probably wouldn't have been able to walk again. He might have died."

"I'm glad he's going to be okay," Bucky replied hoarsely. He could hardly take credit for that. He wouldn't have _left_ Sam behind, but he didn't go there for Sam. He didn't save Sam, Sam just happened to be there. Bucky felt his hand curl into a fist, and he forced it to relax. "How are you? You look better."

"A couple of cracked ribs, a few fractured bones in my hand. I'm fine." As quickly as Steve had sat down, he was up again, back in Bucky's space, but this time leaning over to press a kiss to the side of Bucky's face. "Did I thank you for saving me?"

"You don't have to," Bucky said. Steve's tone shifted from conversational to sexual, probably in an attempt for Bucky to forget that Steve had just said the words _cracked ribs_ and _fractured bones_ , but there was so much more than that keeping Bucky from falling right into Steve's trap. "Aren't you tired?"

"I slept on the jet." Steve hesitated when he didn't get the response he was looking for. He touched a hand to Bucky's jaw, his thumb caressing gently over Bucky's lower lip. "Hey, I'm fine. You saved me. That's not for nothing."

"I killed those men." There it was. Bucky looked down, unable to meet Steve's gaze. It was the thing Steve had never been able to see, that Bucky was _dangerous_ , and now his actions were all of his own accord.

Steve heaved a quiet sigh and lowered himself between Bucky's legs, his hands settling on Bucky's thighs. It wasn't a sexual motion, but something in it seemed decidedly submissive. Steve's palms were warm through the fabric of Bucky's pants as he collected his thoughts.

"You and I both know there are casualties in battle," Steve said after a long moment. "You weren't just protecting me. If we'd been caught, they would have had Shuri and Okoye, too."

Bucky's stomach twisted. God, Steve wasn't getting it. "I didn't need to kill them. I could have incapacitated them, but I... it's all still a part of me. HYDRA made me into this, what I am, except that no one's telling me what to do anymore. It's just me. I tried not to be, but I'm still just the Asset."

"No."

"If you're captured again, it's going to be twice as hard to get you out. They'll learn from everything we did and they won't make those mistakes again. There'll be more guards, more guns, more people watching your every move."

Steve bowed his head, his grip tightening slightly on Bucky's thighs.

"And I'd kill every last one of them if that meant getting to you."

Slowly, Steve looked up at him, his eyes wide, but unreadable. " _Buck_..."

Bucky swallowed hard. "It scares me, what I'd do for you. And it's -- it's selfish and it's dangerous, and I _don't care_. I don't care that they're dead, I care that you saw me kill them. I'm not like you, Steve. I'm what they made me. I'm no better now than I was before you found me."

"No." Steve brought his hands up to cup either side of Bucky's face. "That's not true."

"I can't be that guy you knew before the war. I might be on the other side of -- all of it, but I'm not him."

"Jesus, Buck, I don't want -- I love _you_. Right here, right now." Steve surged forward and kissed Bucky on the mouth. It was hard at first, desperate, but as Bucky opened himself to it, it turned to Steve's natural sweetness. Steve pulled back, releasing his hold on Bucky. "I'm not the guy I was then either. I'm not the guy I was two years ago. And I know there's a, there's darkness in you, and that's not your doing, but I know that doesn't take it away. And I don't care either. I want you, scars and all."

He held his hand out to Bucky. "'Til the end of the line, right?"

Bucky took Steve's hand and squeezed it tightly. If he was crushing any of those fractured bones, Steve's face didn't betray the pain. "Right."

* * *

Bucky woke curled up around Steve. He had a moment of panic thinking it was morning and he'd overslept, but it was the evening sun pouring in through the windows. With a sigh, Bucky relaxed back onto the pillow, but didn't fall back asleep. He smiled, watching the rise and fall of Steve's chest. It was nice, to just enjoy the quiet and the calm.

Steve was next to him. He was breathing. They were fine.

He must have felt Bucky's gaze on him, even asleep. A few moments later, Steve's eyes opened and he smiled over at Bucky. "Hey."

"Hi." Bucky was laying on his left side and didn't really have decent leverage to move forward to kiss Steve on the mouth, so he settled for pressing his lips against Steve's bicep. "Good nap?"

"Good nap," Steve agreed, turning over onto his side, wincing a little, but he smiled, face-to-face with Bucky. His hand came to rest on Bucky's hip, his fingers teasing at the waistband of his sleep pants, and after a few seconds, his eyes shut, though he was still awake.

Bucky took a slow, deep breath. He thought of everything that had happened in the last forty-eight hours, and Steve's words, and his promise to T'Challa to protect Wakanda, and the _acceptance_ he felt from all of it. Yes, he was dangerous, but that didn't have to define him. It could just be a part of something bigger. Something he didn't have to do alone.

Steve wasn't going to stay. Maybe they wouldn't see each other again until the next great catastrophe. But Bucky wasn't going to worry about that now. He leaned his head to rest on Steve's chest and closed his eyes.

He had right now.


End file.
